Summary: mind control, incest, Mf, minor ff
Summary: mind control, Mf, some ff, incest
Ever get the feeling that there's something wrong in the world, that
something's just not right? Ken Niceman too. But Ken found these little $4.00
pills that fix all that. Sort of.
Author's Rambling: Well, sometimes the sequel comes out before the original
See No Evil: Contains sexually explicit and politically incorrect material. If
you shouldn't be reading this, or if it might offend you, simply stop now. Legalese: All actors and actresses are over the age of consent. Proof of age
is on file. Any similarity of any character, event or place to any actual
person, event or place, is purely coincidental. This is all fantasy, and the
actors are all professionals -- do not try any of this at home. Archiving: You are welcome to discreetly repost or archive this, just do not
change it, steal from it or claim credit for it. Have fun! Catastrophes ... occur.
This one was born as four things came together, just so. If any one of them
had been missing, or had been off just slightly, we would not have had ...
well, this awful mess.
First, my son's girlfriend has a great rack -- I'm talking the stuff that
legends are made of. Every night in my prayers, right after the part about my
children having lives better off than I had, I pray that He sends my son a
sweet little wife with a pair of jugs like that to come home to each evening.
Her breasts alone are proof that God is male.
Second, my wife has kept herself in great shape these years that we've been
married, but ... God, she's become a bitch. Until I got her pregnant, she let
me think that I ruled the house. At the point of first conception, we
dispensed with any such illusions. While the kids were growing up, we had sex
maybe once a month. Now that our daughter has left to attend the same college
as our son, my wife does not even demean herself that often.
I now demean myself in the bathroom with fantasies and my own right hand.
Third, my daughter went off to college last fall, and I guess I'm just
starting to feel my age now. I never thought of myself as getting older those
years that my kids were growing up, but it seems that didn't keep it from
happening.
Where did my years go? I've been robbed.
The final ingredient was the dirty magazine I bought at the gas station when I
filled up on the way home, feeling sorry for myself for reasons cited above. I
might need to put up with a cold wordless night between my wife and me. I
might have to endure the assault on my ego that whacking off to a dirty
magazine was the only way I could get sex anymore. I might have to find
someplace to hide from my wife while I beat off. But this was still a free
country, where a man could still slink down to the storage area in the
basement to secretly masturbate to pictures in a magazine he surreptitiously
bought and smuggled into his own home.
And, God willing, we'll never lose that right in this great country of ours.
More specifically, the fourth ingredient was the advertisement about
two-thirds of the way through the magazine. It claimed that all animals go
into heat. Except humans. That's because one woman mutated 70,000 years ago
and we're all descended from her. Descended from that frigid sexual deviant,
it claimed. And this product -- this Ignition tablet -- compensated for that
unnatural mutation and set things right again, putting your dinner date, or
your wife, or your secretary, or the gal next door back into heat. Like God
meant her to be.
Baloney!
My mind drifted to when Alfreda, our collie, went into heat. Man, that dog
rutted and slutted around like you would not believe! She just couldn't help
herself.
I imagined -- just for argument's sake -- what it would be like if my wife
Deborah were as horny as that dog was. Getting my thigh all slicked up as she
rutted her pussy back and forth on it, straddling my leg, begging *ME* for sex.
I, uhm, started to get hard again. After ejaculating not two minutes ago. I
guess that tells you how much I still wanted to make love to my wife.
I sighed. Yeah, right. Nothing could ... turn such a cold bitch into a mewling
pussy. That was just silly.
The advertisement said that one pill kicked in after thirty minutes and lasted
six hours, during which time, she would gladly do ANYTHING you commanded her
to.
Okay. Cool fantasy, but. Enough wasting time dreaming of the impossible. I
pulled up my pants, zipped and headed back upstairs.
"Did you pick up the French bread like I asked you?" she called when she saw
me walk by.
Shit! "Uhm, I'll get it tomorrow."
"Dammit, Kenneth! I work all day too. And I cook and clean as well, for the
simple fact that your cooking is inedible and you ruin the clothes. Now, when
I ask you to do one simple, basic thing, you can't even get THAT right!"
"Well," I shook my head in disgust, "I guess I could always pull all my
clothes back on and drive all the way back into town and get the bread, though
that would use more gas than the cost of the bread. I've already changed
clothes, but I guess if it's that important to you--"
"That would be wonderful. Thank you, Kenneth." She stared, daring me to try to
back out of it.
With a twenty-second sigh to stress how much trouble this was for me, I
trudged back to the bedroom to change. Didn't people respect empty offers
anymore?! The way they grease the world and help it go around?! You NEVER take
someone up on an empty offer. That's just declaring that you DON'T WANT to get
along.
Geez.
I opened the magazine and glanced at the article again.
"God, Kenneth!" Lustful, needful stare from my wife. "FUCK the bread! But FUCK
ME too! I NEED you, baby!" Yeah, right. Still, it was nice to imagine. Only
$40.00 for one bottle of ten pills.
You'd think that they could throw in 40 or 80 pills. That would make the
product sell better.
Unless, of course, the pills cost too much for that.
But, then, placebos should not cost $4.00 a pill.
Unless ... they weren't placebos.
Nah. No way.
I changed clothes and headed back into town.
"Hi, I'm back!" I called when I got back. "I got the bread."
While I was unpacking the bread and the beer from the grocery bag, Deborah
walked out into the kitchen without a word, then slapped my dirty magazine
down on the table. "What the HELL is THIS?!"
Well, it's a dirty magazine, Debbie. Did you learn anything from it? If not,
then you need to go study it until you have the poses and techniques down pat.
Yeah, right. Actually what I said was, "Uhm ... ehr ... ah, I-- ... you see
...."
"Kenneth! It's PORNOGRAPHY! Filth! Did YOU bring that into this house?!"
I deftly took advantage of the opportunity: "No! *I* brought a loaf of bread
into this house! Maybe it's Bobby's!"
She considered that. "Hmmph! Well, it had BETTER not be! I will get to the
bottom of this when he visits this Thursday, and either you or he is going to
have some explaining to do!"
"Perhaps I should talk to him instead, dear. Sort of man-to-man so that--"
"No, if he's done something like this, he can stand up to the consequences
himself!" She shook the magazine at me. "And if it was YOU--"
I frowned and shook my head. "We'll get to the bottom of this, don't you
worry, dear!"
She spun around and strode off with the contraband.
Hopefully, she was still out of fingerprint-dusting powder.
I sighed. That left me with only the page that the advertisement was on, that
I had torn out earlier -- just in case I might want to order some of that
"Ignition."
Not that I ever would ....
"God!" my wife danced across my mind in sexy lingerie, "I am SO sorry for
being such a tightass bitch earlier! Please, if you'll just let me suck you
off, I can show you how contrite I am."
"A man's got a right to bring a dirty magazine into his house every now and
then if he wants to," I imagined myself informing her.
"Oh! Of course! I'm not arguing that! But it means that *I'M* not doing *MY*
job! If I WERE, you wouldn't have any stamina LEFT to consider other women!"
I thought about that a second. "You're right! This *IS* all your fault!" I
mentally told her.
"Please!" she breathed, "Let me make it up to you!" She slid to her knees and
unzipped me.
Yeah, right.
Still, a $4.00 pill HAS to do something, doesn't it? Or they'd throw in 70
more pills and make a lot more in sales.
Okay, so I was 99% certain that the advertisement was bogus. But ... if it
WERE real -- just, if it WERE -- then you couldn't live with yourself if you
missed a chance to fix everything for only $4.00.
Now could you?
And ... for $40 ... even if they WERE just sugar pills -- well, there'd be no
harm done.
And if they weren't ....
If they really DID ... do ... something ....
"Honey? You know what we should do?" my mouth spoke before I realized it was
going to.
She sighed as she strode back into the kitchen to get her knife and cutting
board to cut the bread. "What are you looking to buy for yourself?"
"What do you mean?"
"If you think 'we ought to do' something, it means that you want to buy
something for yourself and slip it past me."
"No, not at all, honey." Innocent look.
"Well, out with it." She started cutting. That raised the stakes a little: she
was holding a weapon, so this had better be good.
"We ought to take a nice family trip to the lake property next weekend." She
looked up at me, trying to figure my angle on this. Ha, let her try. "I don't
know. We only see Bobby and his girlfriend when they stop by on Thursday
nights, and we haven't seen Gina even that frequently since she left for
college. Maybe we can take the weekend and just spend some good, quality
family time together." Good word there: "family".
She studied me, trying to figure out my angle. But I was the epitome of
innocent sincerity. "Wouldn't that be nice?" I smiled.
"Yesss ...," she said tentatively, not ready yet to let go that I might be up
to something.
"It will be just the four of us. And Bobby's girlfriend if he wants to bring
her."
She sliced -- almost chopped, really -- another piece of bread. "They'll be in
separate rooms if they do!"
"Oh, of course," I nodded, extraordinarily easy to get along with. Just like
all innocent chaps are.
"And I'm still going to find out who brought that dirty magazine into my
home!" Slice-chop.
"Of course, dear, and we'll punish the culprit as soon as he admits it. I hope
that this doesn't mean that he and Rosalyn are having relationship
difficulties." See? "Relationship" -- that's a "woman from venus" word. But
when you're trying to convince a woman, you need to use it. To convey
sincerity.
"Maybe it WILL be nice. Gina will be going through the experiences of her
first year at a university and she and I haven't had time to catch up lately."
"And a girl needs her mother, both to share her feelings with and also for the
wisdom that she can impart." Oops, too far.
She pointed the tip of the knife at me. "I still think you're up to something,
Kenneth. But I'm going to take you up on this offer. And it WILL be a
wonderful weekend, and we WILL all have a good time!"
"That's what I was hoping for, dear." I was impenetrably guiltless, because I
had nothing to hide. Other than the advertisement in my pocket, of course.
Pure, distilled guiltlessness.
"Well ... go out to the garage and bring in the garlic press."
"Yes, dear."
I figured I would leave it up to fate. I would mail off the order tomorrow. If
the pills came before the trip, it would be God's little way of saying, "I
believe in you, Kenneth. Go for it, man."
I found the garlic press and headed back inside. Sincere. Confident.
Impenetrable.
And unknowingly careening toward disaster.
"I can't believe that we were this fortunate, that your dad set up this
weekend!" Rosalyn leaned her head on Bobby's shoulder as he drove up the road.
"Mom set up the weekend. Dad will just be doing what he's told."
"Still, it couldn't *BE* better timing." She held up her left hand -- the one
with the ring on it -- and spread her fingers.
"You'll need to take that off. Just until I break the news to them."
She reached out with her right hand and played with the ring. "O...kay. But
we're going to tell them this weekend, right?"
"I've NEVER been able to keep our love a secret. And now that we've formalized
it -- well, I won't be able to keep that a secret either."
"Ooh, you're so sweet!" She kissed him on the cheek. "I am going to be 'Mrs
Robert Niceman'!"
He looked at her. "I love you."
"I love you too!"
"Yeah," Gina sighed to her roommate as she packed her suitcase, "Family
weekend at the lake property."
"I think it's kind of quaint."
"Karen, I left home because I WANTED to get away. My Mom is-- you can only
spend so much time with her and then ... rrgh!" She folded a blouse and set it
in the suitcase. No point in putting TOO much effort into avoiding the
clothes wrinkling -- there wasn't going to be anybody she was trying to
impress this weekend.
"You could ask Jack to go along."
"No, I couldn't. I haven't told my family yet that I have a boyfriend."
"Just show up with him at the door," Karen grinned, "and say, Mom, Dad, this
is Jack."
"Yeah, and just how much fun do you think the weekend will be when we're
visiting my Mom in the hospital after her heart attack?"
"A little controlling?"
"Mom? Naw. I'd just need to apply for a boyfriend permit six months in advance
of the first date, she'd review his credentials, and ten minutes later, my
application would be moot since there is no way that Jack would be considered
worthy of being Mrs Deborah Niceman's daughter's boyfriend."
"I don't know. Jack's a nice boy. Most mothers would think he'd be a good
catch."
"You don't know my Mom."
"Well, if things get too sour this weekend, give me a call, and I'll drive up
and bring you back."
Gina looked at her friend. "Thanks, Karen. I appreciate that. Now if Dad will
only do something stupid and get Mom pissed at him for the weekend, she might
stay off my back."
"Better take your vibrator, just in case," Karen grinned.
"My--" Gina involuntarily swallowed, startled, "--what?!"
"You think I don't know about little Beaver Cleaver?" Karen smiled. "C'mon,
Gina -- anytime you have a major exam the next day or someone does something
shitty to you, you curl up under the covers and have a de-stressing session
with the Beave."
"But-- !"
"Yeah, you play the stereo to cover the buzz, but the frame of your bed
touches the radiator by the window, so I can still hear the eager little fella
humming."
"I-- I--"
"Gina, I'm not judging or anything. Everybody needs some way to blow off
stress. My point is that your mom sounds like a major stress inducer. And
you're not going to have Jack this weekend to do a stress work-out with. So
... take a suitable replacement."
Gina stared at her, glowing embarrassed red, for a few moments, then broke out
in a grin. "Geez! Psych majors! You think you have the inside story on all the
rest of us!" She pulled her vibrator out of her underwear drawer and threw it
in the suitcase.
"Robert!" Deborah greeted her son when she opened the door. "Come in! It's
wonderful to see you!"
"It's good to see you again too, Mom."
"Hi," Mrs Niceman.
"Why, hello, Rosalyn. Come in."
"We should probably bring in the luggage. Before it gets too late."
"Surely. Kenneth! Come help Robert with the luggage!"
"It's okay, Mom. I can get it."
"I've set up the guest room for Rosalyn to stay in tonight. And we have the
extra room at the lake cabin, so everything should work out for a perfect
weekend!"
I came up about then. I hadn't made out any words in the screeching, but there
had been screeching, and that meant that I had done something wrong, or that I
needed to do something and would do it wrong, to Deborah's annoyance and
contempt.
"Hi, Rosalyn," I gave a little wave as I passed. My son had found himself a
mammary goddess!
"Hi, Mr Niceman," she giggled.
"Kenneth, get OUT there and HELP your son! And QUIT trying to avoid work!"
"Yes, ma'am." I headed out and helped Bobby carry in the bags.
We carried them into the guest room and separated out Rosalyn's things.
"And YOUR bags will go up in YOUR room, Robert. Come along you two."
"Bye," Rosalyn whispered and gave a gentle wave to Bobby.
"I love you," Bobby mouthed.
"I love you too," she mouthed back.
Then he and I hurried to catch the remaining luggage up with Deborah.
"And you'll stay in here, Robert, and if you need anything, you just call me.
You know how even the slightest footstep wakes me."
"Yes, ma'am." He hadn't been planning on any middle-of-the-night trysts with
Rosalyn. Because even the slightest footstep DID waken his mother.
"You get changed into something comfortable, then come join us in the kitchen.
We're still waiting for your sister. I can't imagine what's keeping her."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Come along, Kenneth."
It was 11:30 when Gina pulled in the driveway. She said she'd had to fight
traffic the whole way and was exhausted and wanted to just go to sleep.
Rosalyn had been briefed about Deborah's uncanny hearing, so there were no
midnight traipses for my wife to pounce upon, and the night was peaceful.
We all arose at 6:00 the next morning and were on the road by 7:00. It's a two
hour drive, so we pulled off the little dirt road at the cabin by 9:00. After
Bobby and I carried all the suitcases in, Deborah decided everyone looked
sleepy and sent me up to the gas station at the other end of the dirt road to
pick up five coffees while everyone else unpacked.
Well, to satisfy your curiosity: it turns out that the pills did come in time
for the trip. Not that I expected them to actually work or anything ....
No, I'd slip one to my wife. Or two. And maybe one or two to my son's
mammary queen just on the extraordinarily long shot that they might turn the
ladies on a little. Maybe get my son a little action and maybe myself a quick
flash of those marvelous mounds.
And, of course, in the freakish event that they did arouse my wife and son's
girlfriend, I would need to have slipped two to my daughter as well so that
she would be too distracted to notice the other two ladies acting slutty.
Again, not that any of this had a chance in hell of coming about. They were
just expensive sugar pills and I was just a foolish dreamer, but at least I
was only out $40.00.
That's how I came to slip two pills in each lady's coffee Saturday morning as
I was driving the cardboard tray of beverages back to the cabin, ready to
blame "that damn gas station and its coffee pot" if the pills were not as
odorless and tasteless as advertised.
Everyone downed their beverages as we sat outside, enjoying the early morning
air.
"Well," I clapped my hands with a smile finally, "why don't we just take a
leisurely walk around the lake this morning?" That should take a little over
45 minutes, and there were enough bushes along the path for my son and me to
duck off to the side with our women and for my daughter to ... well, to be
with herself.
"Oh, that sounds WONDERFUL!" Rosalyn clapped her hands and bounced, sending
scrumptious ripples through that mammarific flesh.
Yep, sometimes my execution of plans was just too smoo--
"No, I think I'm starting to get a headache," my wife said, "and once you've
walked that path a half dozen times, you notice the mosquitoes more than the
lakescape. But you four go on ahead."
"In that case, I'M going!" my daughter raised her hand a little too
enthusiastically.
"Well, maybe the three kids should go by themselves--" I started to salvage a
plan beginning to buck awry.
"I think," my son spoke over me, communicating something with his eyes to
Rosalyn, "I'm going to stay at the cabin with Mom. But you three go ahead."
"Uh ... maybe I should stay here," I added. My son would miss a good boffing
and boob sucking opportunity, and I would need to figure out how to get my
wife and son in opposite areas of the cabin, but at least it might salvage
some of this. Under the extraordinarily unlikely chance that the pills were
more than sugar, of course.
"Oh, come on, Daddy," Gina told me. "It's a good opportunity to get out of the
stuffiness in the cabin" -- I knew she was talking about my wife, though if
the pills worked at all, she wouldn't be stuffy, she'd be stuffed with cock --
"and Rosalyn has never seen the lake."
"Yes, Mr Niceman. Come take me on a tour of the lake. I'll bet you know
fascinating facts about the fish in it and the animals around it, and Bobby
can stay here. And talk to his mother. About things." She communicated
something back to Bobby with her eyes -- but how was I to know he had asked
her to marry him?
"Go ahead, Kenneth," my wife sighed. "It will get you out of my hair for a
while. And Bobby will be here in case any bears come or anything, for
goodness sake."
"Ehr ...," I admitted to myself that the pills really WEREN'T likely to have
ANY effect and decided to just spend some time with my daughter and with ...
well, the young lady whose breasts I would have climbed the highest mountain
for if I were twenty years younger, "... okay."
The girls changed into hiking boots to protect their legs from the brambles,
along with denim shorts and haltertops. I had to explain the whimper that
squeaked out my mouth when I saw Rosalyn's treasures in all their
halter-covered glory as a small burp from this morning's haphazard breakfast.
Bobby seemed anxious for us to leave and ushered us out.
"C'mon, Daddy," Gina said as we started off, "let's go show Rosalyn a few
things."
She meant the scenery about the lake, not the disastrous consequences about
to descend upon us. How were we to know the changes that would soon impact our
very worlds?
Deborah fixed herself and her son a cup of tea, then she and Bobby sat at the
table outside again, to enjoy the spring air a little more while they talked.
This would be good, she thought. It had been five or six weeks since she had
caught up on events and details about his classes and college life, and a lot
can go awry in that time.
God knew that Bobby was far too naive with people. He wouldn't have survived
this far in life without her help.
"No," she interrupted him. "You can ask that professor questions, but don't do
that unless it's something he'll know the answer to."
"But if I was going to understand how that process works, I needed to know--"
"Bobby, this professor you've described is very defensive and protective of
his knowledge. If you ask him something he doesn't know the answer to, he will
take it as you mocking him in front of the class, and he'll hold a grudge
against you for it."
"But Professor Archwell never minded when I asked intelligent questions."
"Professor Archwell wasn't as limited in what he knew as this man, so he
didn't have to defend it as much."
"Oh."
She steered the conversation away from his professors then -- they weren't
going to change that much in the last six weeks -- and to the friends he was
keeping. That was the type of thing that could break an otherwise excellent
performance at college -- friends that are bad influences. Especially during
college, when kids get rebellious.
The first thirty or forty minutes, the girls and I just leisurely strolled
around the lake, and I pointed out some of the plants and animals. Also, I
stole a few glimpses of those glorious mounds in the skimpiest top I'd seen
them in.
"Daddy, uhm ... I'm going to head back toward the cabin. To, uhm, check. On
something," my daughter fidgeted.
Even though Rosalyn's haltertop was providing some panoramic views of her twin
peaks, and Gina's absence would cut in half the number of witnesses that might
catch me being touristy ... I couldn't do it. Encounters with bears were
extremely rare, but not entirely unheard of here at the lake, and I didn't
want my daughter wandering around alone, just in case. One of these days I
would get around to cleaning the morals out of my attic, but as of today,
there were still cluttering up the place.
"No, honey. There are occasionally wild animals in this area, and I don't
want you to risk a run-in. Let's stay together."
"But, Daddy! I gotta go CHECK ... something!" She fidgeted.
"What do you have to check on?"
"Just ... something."
I shook my head. "No. I told you to stay here."
Gina got a funny look on her face, sort of an expression of stunned admiration
and puppy-love eyes, then stammered. "Y-yes, sir."
I turned back around to the lake just in time to catch a large water ripple
and decided to tease Rosalyn., "Hey! Did you see that one, Rosalyn? I'll bet
it's Big Sam, the bass rumored to have once devoured a small child!"
The girl was breathing a little hard beside me. "Uhm ... sir? I, ehr ... was
distracted."
"There it goes again!" I pointed.
She shook her head from a long distance away, like she was just sitting up in
bed after a deep night's sleep. "I'm ... sorry. I was, uhm ...."
"Distracted," I finished for her.
"Yeeeaaaaah," she sighed.
I heard my daughter rustling some bushes and looked around. "Gina! Get back
here! I told you not to wander off!"
Again, the funny look on her face. "Uhm ... yes ... sir." She stumbled back
over beside me.
"C'mon, Rosalyn. I'll show you a little pool up ahead where the fish always
come in the early evening. You could just walk out there and pick them out
with your hands when that--"
"Mr Niceman," she breathed, "I need to, uhm ... sit down ... for a little
while."
"Okay," I shrugged, and we took a few steps back from the water. "Are you
feeling okay?"
"Yeah ... sort of ...."
"I gotta--" Gina blurted, "I gotta go to the bathroom. I'm gonna step behind
that bush. You stay right here, Daddy. Don't you dare come peek!" She dashed
off.
That girl seemed determined to run off.
"Yeah ... me too, Mr Niceman. I'm gonna," Rosalyn stepped toward another bush,
holding onto things to keep her balance, "I'm gonna ... step behind here. You
stay ... over there."
"Sure," I shrugged. Whatever. I sat down on a tree root to wait out the female
bodily functions.
Very soon, little gasping noises started coming from behind Gina's bush.
"Gina? Are you doing okay over there, honey? You're not--"
"DON'T! Don't come over here, Daddy! I'm-- I'm fine!"
I shrugged. As long as she was all right.
A few moments later, Rosalyn started making whimpering sounds from behind HER
bush too.
"Rosalyn?" Maybe it was the beans last night, affecting the two girls.
"No! ... I'm okay! ... Just stay! ... Stay right there! ... Mr ... Mr ...! Mr
NIC-- Oh! OH! OHGOD!"
"Oh! ... SWEET! ... JESUS!" my daughter suddenly started gasping from behind
HER bush.
"Ladies, are you both--"
"Oh, YES!"
"OHGOD!"
"I'm fine! I'm-- I'm-- OHGOOOODD!"
"Ohgod, yes, Daddy! YES! I'm okay! I'm OOOKAAAAAAYYYY!"
"AAAAAWWWWWW!"
"Oh, yeah ... oh, yeah ...," Gina's voice eased back down.
"Ohgod, yeah ... I'm okay ... too ... Mr Niceman ... ooooohhhhh ...
yeeeaaahhhh."
"You stay there, Daddy ... I'll be ... over in just a ... moment ...."
"Oh, yeah ... oh ... yeah, I'm doing REAL all right, Mr Niceman ... I'll be
... there momentarily ...."
Whatever. I looked at my watch. It was the fifty-minute mark, and these girls
weren't showing any symptoms of heat. Indigestion, maybe, but no heat. So that
'Ignition' obviously didn't work. No hurry to get back to protect my son from
an embarrassing and awkward situation. With his mother.
Ah, so I blew forty bucks. You win some, you lose some. Live and learn.
"Uhm, sorry, Daddy," Gina giggled nervously as she stepped over to rejoin me.
Rosalyn joined us a couple moments later, her cheeks flushed.
"Well," I stuck my thumbs in my belt and shook my head, "I'll bet YOU TWO
feel better!"
Both of them dropped their eyes. Gina gave another nervous giggle.
"I know, I know. No bowel jokes. But next time, you two young ladies need to
make a stop by the bathroom BEFORE we set out for a hike."
"I, uhm, ...," Rosalyn laid her palm across her lower belly, "This is weird,
but I might need to, uhm ... do that again in a couple minutes." She quickly
stole a glance at me, then at Gina, then back down to the ground.
"Uh, yeah! Actually, I might need to, uhm, take another privacy break--"
I looked at my daughter.
"Ohgod," she whimpered, "too!" Her eyes dropped, but only half-way.
"Well, you ladies must have eaten something that really upset--"
Why were Gina's eyes lingering on my ... fly ... ?
Oh, shit! I hoped that I hadn't leaked enough pre-cum during my covert visual
tour of Rosalyn's delightful mounds to cause a stain on my pants! That would
be REALLY embarrassing! "Uhm, ladies," I stammered, taking a step away, "I
think I might need to, uhm, step behind a tree for a moment myself." And make
sure there was no wet spot!
"No!" Rosalyn spoke up uncharacteristically forcefully. I spun around to face
her, and her eyes dropped to my crotch too, and lingered with a stare there.
Shit! I MUST have an awful stain, the way her eyes got large. "Yeah, I, uh ...
have to step behind a tree for just a moment. Take a wiz. Be right b--"
"I COULD--" Rosalyn blurted again, eager and hesitant at the same time, "hold
it for you."
"What?!"
She just blinked at me hopefully.
There was no way I could have understood that correctly. "Uhm, hold ... what
exactly, Rosalyn?"
"Your ... penis ... Mr Niceman." Hopeful smile. "While you ... pee. And ...
for a minute or two afterwards ...."
Now *I* whimpered. For just a moment, visions of myself holding on to her
boobs for dear pleasure while she held my peter dashed across my mind.
This was just going to make my stain that much bigger, I thought. "Ehr, no ..
I REALLY have to duck behind a tree for a moment." With that, I made a quick
exit.
But ... there was no stain on the front of my pants! At least not yet! So why
were those two girls staring at my crotch?! Were they trying to play some joke
on me or something?!
Well, I had a moment of privacy, so I went ahead and reached down into my
pants to reposition my erection to a little more comfortable position.
"Hi, Daddy."
"Gah!" I tried to get my hand out of my pants, but it got hung up under my
belt until I wrestled it free. "Uhm, what is it, sweetie?" I asked as I turned
to face her. Hopefully she wouldn't think her father was some pervert,
self-groping out here in the woods.
"I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to startle you. But I can make it up to you
-- what would you like for me to do to make it up? Anything you want," she
breathed. "Anything at all. Just ask."
My daughter ran her tongue around her lips.
"Oh, nothing, sweetie. I just didn't expect you to come up behind Daddy like
that. While he was ... peeing. That's all."
"Are you sure? There's ... nothing ...," she stepped a little closer to me,
"I could do--"
"Don't worry about it, sweetheart. Let's just get back to our hiking, I
guess."
"Yeah, sure, Daddy," she sighed, voice disappointed as I stepped back around
the bushes to rejoin Rosalyn.
"Are you ready to--" I started to ask Rosalyn.
She gave a little shriek and sat back up from where she was hunched over on
a tree root, her hands flying into view from wherever they had been.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"
"No, no. Heh, heh. That's fine." Her cheeks were really flushed.
I shook my head. She sure was acting high-strung, startling like that. Of
course, I guess I was too, jumping when my daughter came up behind me while I
was peeing. Or supposed to be peeing. Or ... whatever. "Rosalyn, if you need
to pee some more, we can wait while--"
"No, no, I'm fine, Mr Niceman."
"You sure? I--" My eyes widened as my daughter wandered back into the clearing
-- minus her denim shorts! "Gina! What happened to--"
She blinked. "What happened to what, Daddy?"
"Your shorts! You're-- You're--"
She smiled. "I'm what, Daddy?"
"You're all leggy and-- and-- What happened?!"
"Oh, they just came off somewhere back in the woods there," she gestured
absent-mindedly.
"Well, let's go find them!"
"Oh, I'm fine, Daddy. Besides, it's a little bit cooler like this."
"I'LL say! You're all-- ! And don't you know-- you never wear a thong to go
hiking!"
"Oh, really?" She smiled a little and stuck her thumbs in her waistband.
"Guess I should take it off, then, hungh?"
"NO!" my voice cracked as she started to slide them off."No! You HAVE to leave
those on! And we HAVE to go back and find your shorts!"
She was breathing a little hard. "Yeah ...," she sighed and seemed to space a
couple moments while gazing at me, then blinked a little. "But-- I-- don't
know where-- so I'll just-- I can just hike in this, Daddy. Why don't I walk
in front of you. So that you can make sure that this ...," she stretched her
thong's waistband with her thumbs, "doesn't come off. And leave me all ...
naked." Smile.
"No! We HAVE to get your legs and your-- your-- your crotch covered! We just
need--"
My eyes were caught by Rosalyn then, who stepped back into view, and ... good
... GOD! The way those gazabos were jitterbugging, they ... had been ... set
free beneath that haltertop!
"Hi, Mr Niceman!" she skipped up in front of me and beamed.
"R-Rosalyn, your, uhm ... your bra ...."
"Oh," she flicked a hand, "it must have come off somewhere back there
or something." She gestured with one hand toward the region she had come from,
causing fascinating ripples to move through her breasts ....
"Mr Niceman," she giggled. "My eyes are up HERE," she bounced perkily with
that last word, making ... more ripples ... dance across ....
She watched my hypnotized eyes for a few moments with a smile.
"But you-- you can't ...," I gestured toward her breast-al region.
"I can't WHAT?" her voice bounced high in pitch on that last word as she
rocked perkily on her toes, causing those luscious things to reverberate
some more ....
"No ...," I shook my head. "No, you need to go find your bra, and you--" I
turned around to face my daughter and ... she was sitting on a fallen log with
her ... HAND DOWN HER THONG!
"NO! You CAN'T DO that!" I yelled at her. "Get your hand out of your--"
My daughter's eyes slid shut as she whimpered.
That's when it finally hit me ... they were both in heat.
The little $4.00 pills HAD worked.
And these two young ladies were ... horny out of their little minds ....
I turned back around to Rosalyn. She was cupping her own love pillows through
her haltertop. Whimpering.
I turned back to my daughter. Her hand was still down her thong as her
breath was coming in shorter, squeaky gasps.
"Gina! CUT that OUT!"
"Yes! Yes, Daddy! Come-- come MAKE me stop!" she gasped. "I'm your-- I'm
your--"
"Gina!" I marched over, grabbed her wrist and pulled the furiously moving hand
out of her underwear. "Now!"
"Yes!" she screamed. "Yes, Daddy! I'm YOURS! I'm your BITCH!" She shivered,
then started reaching for my crotch.
"No! No you're not!" I tried to dance back from her.
But she came after me.
"Honey, you've got to stop!" I whined. But she kept grabbing and I kept
hopping back. If she kept this up, I was going to--
FALL!
As I stepped back, I tripped over my son's girlfriend's ankle. She was busy
massaging her own mammaries, which seemed to have somehow worked free of that
silly confining haltertop.
The two vixens in heat pounced upon me with squeals of delight.
My daughter got her hand at my crotch, cupped my genitals through my pants
once, then arched her back and--
-- yeah, I know this is my daughter we're talking about here, but I'm just
reporting the facts --
-- she came in great screaming gasps like she was giving birth to a sixteen
pound orgasm.
While I was stunned by the force of her climax, Rosalyn grabbed my wrists and
pulled my hands to her precious boobs, then covered my hands with hers and
cupped for all that she was worth. After a single good squeeze, her back
arched, her breasts pushed forward toward me, and she wailed in orgasm too.
I ... felt sorry for her and went ahead and squeezed her tits through the rest
of her climax. And slightly beyond. So that she wouldn't hurt herself by being
interrupted mid-'gasm. What can I say? I'm a compassionate man.
Part 1
Disasters happen, I guess.